


Cotton candy

by fish_wifey



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Blowjobs, Food Porn, M/M, o-matsuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:24:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1996653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fish_wifey/pseuds/fish_wifey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a festival, Kise tries to think up something he could buy for his senpai to eat 'erotically', when things are taken out of his hands and out of his control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cotton candy

**Author's Note:**

> 'cotton candy core of darkness' (Wreck-it Ralph)
> 
> When I asked Sophie what she wanted me to write for Kasamatsu/Kise, I should have seen this coming and not bother to ask at all. OH WELL. Here ya go, inspired by this NSFW (-'not the way you think', phuah!) comic http://jiveammunition.tumblr.com/post/57381793998/cotton-candy-senpai
> 
> It also covers the prompt/headcanon: Kise sees something in a ero video and uses Perfect Copy for pleasure at home (Home in the broadest sense of the word; with his bae).

Kids rushing past with recent caught gold fish, men trying their luck at shooting, hoping to win a prize for their sweetheart, elderly walking towards the temple, their families close behind to pay respect and pray for good fortune; the fair was busy, the stalls as numerous and different as the locals ranged with age. The warm lights flooding in and brightening up the scenery, giving a soft glow to even the most remote things hidden in the murky off-side places. Kise gets a lot of compliments from girls ranging between the ages of 8 and 26, for the admirable yukata he’s wearing; it’s colourful and bright, just as his personality.

It had been a tough deal, getting Yukio to come here with him. Ryōta, eager and persistent since the beginning of the month, when Hayakawa had come bursting into the locker rooms. Babbling about incoherent nonsense, he had been spreading out a bunch of flyer which had taken care of explaining what he was on about, what he couldn't articulate so well when excited. The End of May fair sounded like fun, and a lot of guys from the team had said they'd go.

Everyone, except Yukio. Given a whole month, Ryōta had used up every trick in his arsenal of convincing, only to get the tough-gotten 'Okay okay, I'm going!' from his senpai's lips (kissing them had helped with immense pleasure). It took a few more make out sessions to have his senior also dress up in traditional garb. In the end, with Yukio grumbling, a navy blue, plain yukata adorned his muscled and perfec proportioned body. Definitely fitting his personality, although nothing about him was bland; steady and focused fitted him more.

Now, parted from the rest of the team and clinging on a struggling arm, Ryōta faced another problem that wanted fixing. Biting his lip as he concentrated on the numerous foodstuffs he could buy for his senior, weighing off every possibility. He should make the right decision, make the most of it. Heading right into it and rushing could end badly and more importantly, not sexy looking at all. Easy does it, nice and slow and that's the way he imagined Kasamatsu eating it.

Hot dogs. Maybe two at the same time? Would Yukio be someone who would pig it in, licking it, becoming dirty around the mouth -just imagining it had Ryōta's senses going into overdrive, making his skin sensitive with rising lust.

Ensuring the dirtiness of his actions, without making it too obvious would be good. Something more sensual, dripping, still phallic was in order. The best way to get a good view, was to choose a piece that would do the job, without Yukio noticing what he's doing. Candid apples -no wait- candid bananas? Those were usually covered in chocolate, half down the length of the yellow fruit. Ryōta's mind went to the more fruity flavours; like strawberry or raspberry, the colour definitely coming on great on his senior's lips. Definitely a good idea, if he could find them on this fair.

Lost in plain sight and with the other festival-goes passing by, not noticing him (-and the girls being shy today, keeping their respectable distance), Ryōta closed his eyes in concentration, biting his lip hard as the visions swarmed his filthy mind. Yukio-senpai eating three hot dogs at once, fervent, lustful, hungry, grease dripping down his open mouth and beyond his chin, trailing a line on his throat and vanishing in his yukata. Licking the top of a raspberry covered banana, seducing glances thrown to Ryōta, being real erotic about his business when lips touched down and sucked it up-

"You want anything?"

Snapping out of wishful thinking and right back into the cold harsh reality, Ryōta looked to Yukio who had his mouth full of cotton candy. His fists unclenched and he blinked a few times, eyeing nimble fingers and their innocent hold of a tiny white stick. The pink fluffy piece of sugar invading his nosestils like an unwelcome intruder. All Ryōta could think of was how dry and sugary it would taste, how sweet and innocent the kiss would taste.

No fucking way. The idol cotton candy route!? And Ryōta hadn't been able to interfere, to choose something in time and have all his dirty images come true in the flesh. Witnessing the unholy cuteness as Yukio munches on the sweet white woolen goodness, he fails to answer and brings suspicion on the stern-returning face.

"What're you looking at, huh?"

Ryōta comes back to earth with a strangled noise at the bottom of his throat and a slight colour addition below the hair at the back. Pokerfacing his way through a stuttering explanation, he rubs his already hot-feeling neck and hopes to the gods Yukio can't read minds. No such luck. The face changed into the daily seen 'angry captain' mode, the cotton candy dropping to hip height. Ryōta thinks of running off, pride forgotten. Contemplates telling the truth and bearing with the consequences, even if it's a tough pill to swallow, when Yukio asks him one more time, differently phrased.

"Oi, the Hell is up with you?" Angling his head like this should be illegal, Ryōta thinks, when the inquiry brings Yukio's head to the side, brows together and one ticking up in question. It's in great disfavor Ryōta watches the tendons on Yukio's neck, the lickable line of collar bone peeking between the folds of the yukata. It all reminds him too much of kissing, and although his severe captain can be frightening, deep down, Ryōta is also aroused by testy nature of his senpai.

"N-nothing at all! I didn't really- you know?" His eyes deceive him, looking at the tiniest residue of cotton candy sticking to Yukio's bottom lip; lips which probably, most definitely, carry a sweet taste, sticky to the touch. Lips begging to be licked by his tongue running over the top and the current focused on the bottom part. Sweet, sticky and wet. He's doomed for sure, too much focused on what they could be doing if he would be able to find a neat little place off the fair, to undress in the shadows and hide in the wealth of lust. As his head fabrics more intense methods of using the cotton candy on his dick, his heart races, loud in his ears pumps of his blood and his pulse. 

If not minds, Yukio reads expressions well enough, his brow twitching as he's able to add it all up on his own. 

"Thinking dirty shit again, Kise?" Anticipating a beating, Ryōta closes his eyes and braces himself for the impact -which never comes. Instead, Yukio eyes him with a calm to be read as non-threatening, lips curving up in a slow smile. Ryōta blinks in surprise, tilting his head to the side as if the motion stands equal to asking for an explanation. Being regarded with a not-understood grin and as if he was the next meat on Yukio's plate, Ryōta was also drawn towards the peril. As if a crooked finger beckons him, he follows. Disaster the only thing which will follow on foot, enabling him to do as he likes without the help of any food. The true meaning of it escapes his mind in rapid succession, as the cotton candy gets finished off with aggressive bites and teeth-showing chews, waiting for an answer.

The unexpected calmth still radiating from his senior unmakes him, brings the hairs on his neck standing. He's closing in, the world around him muting out, smelling no risk (-although it could be veiled behind the pink cotton candy, black at his core) and letting him drop all guards. Ryōta nods, after a few seconds have passed by after Yukio asked his question. A brand new idea mixes in with the old, and he's giving into what his mind wants to make reality.

"I've been to this place before, Kasamatsu-senpai. Would you mind following me?" A simple nod and a turn around, Yukio gives his faith to Ryōta -his gratitude immense, as his lower body parts start to rebel against him. In rare times and common when it is about what they do in the dark, Ryōta leads on, keeping cool. Both of them act like nothing peculiar went on between them. Unknown to most, lovers communicate in varied ways, secret code and silent glances alike. They talk about minute stuff, deciding where to eat later on, as Yukio walks beside Ryōta and lets himself be guided to the lower parts of human nature. Following into the dusky parts, where they can see and hear no one, and no one will hear or see them. 

*~*~*

The greenery is darkened by the unlit pathways, persons who have ventured into nature creating their own path, although the ways crossing and barely visible, men-made footsteps. They found their way through, ramming into trees when the hunger overtook; fingers dancing on the yukata clothed skin, gentle prying off the folds holding it together, lips pulling lips and muttering threats of what will happen later, sigh exchange within their mouths, whispers of their names sing-song on the tip of their tongues. Ryōta assumes superiority over the situation, able to press Yukio against the bark and make him hiss more times than Ryōta shifts. He can taste it, the sticky sweet sensation of the prior eaten cotton candy; no more innocent and pure, now changing into the same dirty whirlwind tying them together by the root of their need. Hearing his name gently pried off those open-mouthed kisses when the moans turn soundless and the beggary 'damnit' comes with a hungry 'Kise' from the back of Yukio's dry throat. 

Tides turn with the evening wind breezing between the leaves and their hair and upturning twigs and making them stumble on neutral grass. As the scales imbalance when one voice is more skilled than the other, can put his needs into words. The grin spreads over Yukio's smug face as his hand pushes Ryōta's head down his open yukata, demanding his tongue to pay tribute on heated flesh.

And he does it like no one else could, he prides himself with it. Adorning feathers of wisdom and cloaking himself in knowledge collected, Ryōta can be safe to say only he sees Yukio like this, only he can make Yukio like this, only he can satisfy his needs to fulfillment. Using what he's learnt from videos on the internet, he's leering up, the corners of his mouth turning skywards when his fingers undo the obi-belt from Yukio's waist. Always keeping eye contact, looking from beneath his lashes, shaking his head at how easy it is to undo Yukio. Copying from porn had been a fun try once, but the effects had been so grand and lasting, Ryōta would be a fool not to use it from time to time. 

It's how he learnt to give exceptional head. Not what he'd thought they'd end up doing, since it would have to be the other way around. Ryōta kneels down, hands in the soft green grass beneath, letting their softness tickle and teach him nature’s way of pleasing. Kissing a new pattern of marks upon Yukio's stomach, following the pleasure trail with his nose, to where his hand busies itself. His wrist twitches at the base, liking how his name rolls of Yukio's lips, how the eyes close and the neck bends backwards, whenever he does the little flick.

"You like that, don't you, _senpai_?" He whispers on the pulsating cock before he lowers his lips around the top, tongue twirling a wild few rounds before he flattens it against the side, going down with his lips pressed against it. Ryōta likes teasing around before he takes the whole length in one go. He does it from one side, than from the back, eyes opening as his tongue licks upwards again, making sure the eye contact stays intact. Pearls of sweat appear on the stern face, pure justified apprehension to be outdone so quickly. Hearing how fingers grab on the ground, feeling tufts of his hair being ripped higher up to guide Ryōta's head to do the actual job sincere. 

Ryōta gives in, he lives by it, to not wonder how he got here with someone he admires and cares for beyond the belief of men. Letting go of images in his head when the real thing spreads his unsteady knees further apart. The hand patting his blond hair, Yukio ready for Ryōta to divulge his needs. Ryōta closes his eyes when he readies himself, breathing in through his nose when his lips go down around the cock, taking it in and breathing out with intend. He hollows his cheeks and glides his mouth upon Yukio in a steady rhythm, devouring Yukio as he his cursed lips cuss, only a hushed breath when he sighs Ryōta's name. 

Eagerness wins Ryōta over, knowing he's part of such a pleasure-giving frantic, celebrated by hips starting to advance in their own cause, syncing in Ryōta's skilled ministrations. Yukio urges him on, the hand patting his head combined with the heady compliments creating a wildfire in Ryōta's stomach. As much as he enjoys it, as much as he is part of it, the wish to get even more out of this for himself too, hazardous overwhelming. For someone who always returns a favour on the court, he can only hope to have a favour returned by Yukio outside of it.

Maybe Yukio cannot read minds, spending so much time with Ryōta could have enabled himto be good at reading expressions; but above all, he's a kind man to be involved with, a gentle and fierce person who alternates between his two sides as easy as he breaths and murmurs curses. As it is, he never leaves Ryōta unloved nor uncared for, and he's quick to direct them into a more equal position of giving and getting. As such, he makes Ryōta stop what he's doing and angles the flushed face to lie on the still thigh.

"Relax, easy." Ryōta simply breathes out a breath, liking the tickling sensation it creates on Yukio’s body, the reaction of hot breath on a warm and licked cock. Like a puppet, he lets himself be guided, his eyes meeting those of a hungry, starved animal. He might love attention, but no one gets his as much as Yukio does. Fingers trail behind his back, up to the many-coloured sash holding his yukata in one place, the fabric sliding off Ryōta’s back and on the ground and he’s eager to reveal taut muscles to the steely eyes glancing down to him. “Lie down on your back.” He does, sliding his arms out to have the yukata as a blanket to the grass, watching Yukio’s hand pumping his member to full hardness with a few practised strokes and a murmur of low-whispered, heady words. Yukio is never one to compliment too much, unable to control the stoic need once they’re getting down on each other. When Ryōta’s breath catches in his throat for a gasp and he closes his eyes, teeth bite into his throat, a tongue licking lewd traces along the way of his blood pumping vein.

All sorts of erotic images flash past in his conscious mind, subconsciously choosing the best for their situation, as neither of them brought lube to this place. As such, Ryōta’s hand shoot around Yukio’s neck, fingers go into the rough-feeling hair, breathing out a suggestion to his senior. The mouth dis-attaches only slowly and unwillingly, and wondering eyes, full of lust, glance towards him.

“You want me to do what?”

Ryōta flashes his bright, knowing grin, eyes as dilated as Yukio’s. “Trust me… It’s going to be good.” Self-conscious and guarded, Yukio regards the grass around his body before he nods, standing up and turning, only to hover his lower region above Ryōta’s face. 

“Like this?” Ryōta’s hands travel up the back of Yukio’s legs, tender, his arms sliding beneath warm flesh and the blue garment, fingers crossing the firm curve and hold. His only answer is the push, guiding Yukio’s cock back into his mouth. He widens his own legs, held by Yukio by the knees, not waiting for him. As he licks the warm flesh and avoids his teeth hitting the sensitive skin, he grins to the firm grip around the base of his own hardness. Yukio carries his pride and bravado everywhere he goes, the standstill and veiled insecurities a mere after thought as he slides his lips, tongue peeking out first, onto Ryōta’s dick. 

As much as Ryōta liked to suck Yukio off, make him come inside his mouth, simply using his tongue and lips and the pull of air to create this undone mess of his senior writing, knees weakening, fingers tightening, and breath catching, Yukio didn’t share the same view. He’d rather fuck into Ryōta until the bed breaks, until the wood creates lines into the wall and bruises form everywhere, a grip so consuming and traveling and in need to hold and control every bit he could get, while he himself lost it at the sigh and moan of Ryōta’s words. Getting him to perform a blowjob, no matter how kind and thoughtful Yukio was… sometimes Ryōta had to beg. Tonight he was granted by deep intakes, a hand taking it’s slow time to rub up and down the bottom base, the other fingers trailing along the back of Ryōta’s thigh. 

Yukio had once whispered, hidden by the 4:39 darkness of his own bedroom, lips causing pressured noise at Ryōta’s air, which he didn’t mind to perform the prefered foreplay. The only thing holding him back from doing so, is the fear of not being able to do it as well as Ryōta.

Making sure to moan, vibrations echoing in his own mouth full of salt and pumping slickness, nails scratching with the pure lust waving his hips upwards. Being pushed down, controlled, only to struggle back into Yukio’s mouth, upped the ante for them both. Applying something he’d seen in an American porn video; lowering his hand, he splits his fingers up. Ryōta’s thumb travels below the scrotum, feeling the balls twitch and Yukio humming down his cock. He bends the middle part of his index finger, settling on the perineum, and finally, his middle finger goes off to stimulate the anal region. Yukio’s body stiffens up, a few seconds before the tension exchanges for pleasure-filled roll of hips. Above everything, they share mutual trust, and Ryōta rides on it as he moves his middle finger, only circling the asshole with boldness and care. 

The surprise comes with a shudder wrecking Yukio before it does Ryōta; usually, Ryōta’s body is over-sensitive and purely from Yukio’s hungry eyes alone, he whimpers. Due his little three-finger trick, adding to the always succeeding slides of tongue, Yukio is the first to come, his orgasm making him stop all movement above his waist. Ryōta sucks it in, troubled by the position, keeping his nose inhaling air.

“Oooh, oh f-fuck…” While Yukio needs a few seconds to compose himself, Ryōta swallows the last bitter drops down, both hands caressing the back, fingers circling lazy round patterns and eights across the skin. His patience is paid off, as Yukio returns to his task, grabbing Ryōta’s thighs from behind and spreads them, as he sucks him back into his mouth. Mouth free, he groans out silent curses to the ministrations of the tongue, closing his eyes and feeling his own orgasm build in his stomach. It doesn’t take long with the new pace, and although he warns Yukio, he sucks him down his throat as he comes, growling at the taste.

Rolling off him and wiping his mouth, Ryōta can barely make out his partner looking up to the sky, before he receives a kick in the ribs.

“Ow! Senpai, why did I deserve that?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Kise!” Sitting up with crossed legs, wrists on his knees and a scowl deepening his face, Yukio regards him with a blushing contempt. As Ryōta’s head is only filled with questions as to what he’s accused off, Yukio huffs and closes his eyes, hand running through his air.

“It’s all Moriyama’s fault… I know he gave you a tape and… and I watched it.” The look Ryōta receives is a mix of embarrassment, ‘I stand hierarchy above you’, and a silent cry of admiration. “That thing you did with your fingers and thumb… You copied it off a erotic video, Kise.” Ryōta blinks, an apologetic smile ready on his lips. What to say, it’s not even a bad habit and there’s no way he’d could stop from using his talents outside the court as well.

“I did… are you mad because of...the thing I did at your behind?” He’s accepted the possibility of another hit, this time to his head, but it never comes. Instead, Yukio urges him with a finger to sit up, which he does, being pulled into a salty kiss as Yukio’s tongue lazy to slide past his a few strokes. Stable on his elbows, his hair caressed at the back by Yukio’s rough fingers, they gaze into each other’s eyes, no such thing as searching needed.

“Nah, it was sorta fine. Took me by surprise. You knew your boundaries though, and I thank you for it.” Ryōta smiled, pecking Yukio’s lips, heat burning in his stomach again.

“As much as I would like to tackle your lap now...I guess it’s better if we go home mhn?” Reluctant to move, Kise sat up on his knees, liking the feel the back of his head being touched still.

“Sure thing, Ryōta. C’mon, I help you with your colourful garb.”

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to god, I tried finding something new and the stuff I googled...this 3-places-finger thing had been all the internet willing to give.


End file.
